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2Q2                            LETTERS   FROM   THE

January zoth, 1802.

I made the most of my time, whilst in
Madeira, walking about and examining. I had
not time to get up beyond the cultivated country,
where Nature displays more curiosities than she
does below. I principally should have wished to see
the variety of plants she produces spontaneously
on those mountains, in a more southern latitude
than Spain. As the island is volcanic, I was not
surprised at finding a forest of chesnut trees
above the vineyards, as that wood rejoices in a
fiery soil.

The houses are whitened with lime brought
from Porto Santo or Canary, and picturesquely
scattered among the gardens, which makes the
views resemble the slopes of Posilipo and Ischia;
only the roofs are tiled, and not flat—the tiles
are dark brown.

Mr. Murdoch, at whose house we were enter-
tained, is a man of great information, and had
visits from the Portuguese governor and bishop.
The people of Madeira are ugly; most of them
of that kind of Portuguese feature that consists
of a broad face, snub nose and wide mouth, with
good eyes and stout persons, like our friend Susa.1

I The late Count Funchal.